


My Brother, His Brother, and Me

by naasad



Series: MBHBAM [1]
Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms, Red vs. Blue
Genre: Agent Carolina & Agent Washington are Siblings, Angst, Autistic Agent Washington, Brief Mention of Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Brief Mention of Suicide, Canon Compliant, De-aging, Dyslexic Michael J. Caboose, Experimentation, Family, Fluff, Foster Siblings, Found Family, Gen, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Pre-Season/Series 15 (Red vs. Blue), SPARTAN!Michael J. Caboose, SPARTAN-II, Teasing, Trans Agent Washington, christ these tags are a mess, i'm usually more organized than this i swear, kind of, sibling relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 17:53:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18393407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naasad/pseuds/naasad
Summary: A UNSC liaison arrives on Iris.





	My Brother, His Brother, and Me

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wasn't going to do anything with this bunny at all but then I got stuck on something else I was working on and it actually turned out good enough to post so! Lmk what you think!

“Clean this place up,” Wash ordered, walking into Blue Base shirtless.

“Eugh,” Tucker said. “Keep your Red cooties out of here. There’s no reason not to take a shower before a Walk of Shame.”

“I prefer Got Laid Parade,” Wash said, not missing a beat. “Seriously, though, get moving. UNSC liaison touches down in less than sixty. You can either clean our base or go help Red Team with theirs.”

With that threat hanging over their heads, Caboose and Tucker scrambled to productivity.

Wash smiled and went to his quarters to get dressed.

Carolina met him halfway there. “Did you have a good night?” she asked, eyeing his neck. “And do you need any makeup? I have some experiences covering bruises, though mine were usually from getting into fights with other kids.”

Wash slapped a hand over his neck, blushing from the roots of his hair all down his chest. “Yes,” he said, backing into his room, “I had fun. I think I’ll pass on the makeup, armor covers everything, thanksthoughbye.”

Carolina laughed as he shut the door.

Wash sighed and buried his face in his hands then went about getting dressed and making sure everything was still within regulation since he’d left last night. Sure enough, the sheets were all tossed this way and that, and there was a suspiciously Caboose-sized imprint in the mattress.

Wash shook his head fondly and went about making the bed, smiling at the note that said _‘ty 4 nite mare hlep’_.

Once everything was squared away, he wandered down the hall to drape himself over Caboose’s back. “You have a nightmare again, buddy?”

“Yes,” Caboose said cheerfully. “It was about the mean science people again, but you made it all better! Yeah, you’re really good that, even when you’re at Red Base.”

Wash patted him on the shoulder. “Glad I could help. Need anything?”

“No,” Caboose said, pulling Freckles into his lap along with a rag, polish, and long-handled brushes. “I just need to give Freckles his bath now. He is very shy. He does not like it when people see him naked.”

“Alright,” Wash said. “Be outside in thirty minutes, alright? Freckles, please remember that.”

**“Affirmative.”**

“I will try to remember it too!” Caboose waved. “See you soon, Agent Washington!”

Wash shook his head, smiling, then made his way down the hall to where Tucker was standing over the kitchen counter, doing… something. “Tucker, we have half an hour, why aren’t you in armor.”

“Making bread!” Tucker grunted, kneading the dough. “Food is love, Wash, it’s one of the basic facts of humanity. We want this person to like us, and you’re going to flip your lid if I try and flirt with them, so. Food.”

“Tucker - ˮ

“Just give me five minutes, dude. Then I can plop it in a bowl to rise and we’ll be good.”

Wash sighed. “Alright. Is the base clean?”

“Everything but the downstairs bathroom.”

Wash shuddered. The downstairs bathroom had an infestation of spiders. Not normal spiders like the size of your hand, more like giant spiders at least the size of your whole fucking arm. “We’ll just hang an out of order sign on the door.”

“Not it.”

“Fuck.”

“Hey, where’s Carolina? Maybe you can get her to do it for you.”

“Get me to do what?” Carolina asked, stepping into the kitchen with her toothbrush still in her mouth.

Wash shrugged. “We need to hang an out of order sign on the downstairs bathroom.”

Carolina stared.

Wash stared back.

Tucker gave an exaggerated groan as he kneaded the dough just to snap them out of it.

“You men are all babies,” Carolina said. She spat into the sink, rinsed, then opened the cabinet next to the fridge, grabbed Wash’s hairspray – _“Goddamn it, how do you keep finding that no matter where I hide it?!”_ – and marched downstairs, already flicking on her favorite lighter.

Wash sighed and buried his face in his hands.

“Hey,” Tucker said. “Don’t worry, we’ve got this.”

An ominous explosion came from Red Base.

Wash sighed.

Twenty minutes later, the bread was rising comfortably, the downstairs bathroom was free of spiders – though it smelled a bit like a barbecue – and all fires were put out.

“Okay,” Wash said, assembling the Reds and Blues on the front lawn. “Let’s try this again. What are we not going to do?”

“Call the liaison a chucklefuck,” Grif muttered.

Simmons sighed. “Follow them around like a demented puppy.”

“Blow stuff up,” Sarge grumbled, looking clearly upset.

Wash made a mental note to make it up to him, then winced as his suit chafed against his neck. Maybe give it a day or two first.

“Squeeze them with all my love,” Caboose repeated dutifully.

“Make inappropriate comments and/or noises,” Tucker sighed.

Donut sniffled. “Be myself.”

Wash sighed and put a hand on Donut’s shoulder. “Look, Donut, you’re a fabulous human being, you just have a habit of saying the weirdest things at the exact wrong times. We love that about you, but this liaison has never met you before, and we really need them to like us. Does that make sense?”

Donut sniffled again, but nodded and pulled Wash in for a hug. “Thanks, mom.”

“I’m not your mom,” Wash said, taking a step back.

Simmons and Grif snickered. “You sure about that?”

Wash stared at them until they quieted. “Alright - ˮ

The sound of an approaching Pelican cut off whatever he was going to say next.

The Reds and Blues turned to see the ship touch down on the beach. The rear hatch opened, and out stepped a far too tall man in regulation green armor.

“John!!!” Caboose dropped Freckles and ran toward the newcomer, leaping into his arms.

Against all odds, the man stayed upright.

“Did he just survive one of Caboose’s tackle-hugs?” Tucker asked in awe.

Grif frowned. “Did he just call him John?”

“Oh my God,” Simmons said, voice already beginning to squeak, “did Caboose just tackle-hug Master Chief?”

Wash made his way much more sedately down to where Caboose was eagerly chatting Master Chief’s ear off.

“And then the science people made me young again!” Caboose said, pulling off his helmet and grinning. “Isn’t it so awesome!”

John’s hand twitched at his side, as if he wanted to make sure Caboose was real. “Yes, awesome.”

“Sir,” Wash called. “Corporal David Abernathy, pleasure to have you on our base, sir.”

Caboose scoffed, leaning against his new friend. “Oh, you don’t have to call him ‘sir’, Agent Washington. John is my biggest brother!”

Wash frowned. “What?”

“Yes,” John said slowly, staring at Caboose. “I’m not sure how, but Mike is right.” He shook himself and stood tall. “You can dispense with the formalities, soldier. We’re all family here. Let’s get inside.”

“Of course,” Wash said, “this way.”

“Guys!” Caboose called. “This is my big brother!”

“Family reunion?” Sarge hollered. “This calls for celebration!” He pulled out a detonator.

“Oh, wow,” Donut said, admiring the new crater in the cliffside, “that’s such a pretty hole!”

Tucker sniggered. “Bow chicka bow wow!”

Wash sighed.

Eventually, they all managed to make it into Blue Base, Sarge grumbling the whole way.

Wash fell back and brushed their shoulders together. “It’ll be alright,” he murmured. “You know I’ll nip any favoritism in the bud.”

Sarge grunted and nodded, loosening his hold on his shotgun.

“Alright,” Tucker said, “I got homemade bread ready in an hour or two if you want some. Water and fresh fruit if you’re feeling hungry now.”

“Sounds like the bread is worth waiting for,” John said, dropping onto the couch. “Thank you for the offer though. Mike.” He leaned forward on his elbows, and Caboose leaned forward as well, bumping their helmets together. John leaned back, looking like a particularly confused cat for a second before shaking it off. “You said that the ‘science people’….”

Caboose nodded. “They made me younger! There were lots of flashy lights and then machines weren’t my friends but now they are my friends again and have you met Freckles yet?” He pointed the gun right in John’s face and pulled the trigger.

John leapt to his feet, pistol in hand.

The Reds and Blues had their weapons on him in an instant.

The party horn and confetti died out just as Freckles reported **“Hostile detected, deadly force authorized.”**

“No, Freckles, bad!” Caboose admonished his gun, blissfully ignorant of the situation he’d caused. “John is not a hostile! John is my brother!”

John held up his hands, dangling his pistol from his left.

Carolina snuck in and retrieved it without a word.

“Man,” Simmons said, “you really would’ve hated it when Freckles was still a MANTIS.”

John sat down slowly. “That thing was a MANTIS-class Assault Droid?”

“Yeah,” Wash said, pointing his gun down, “a friend of ours transferred the AI into that gun when its body was destroyed. Freckles controls the actual firing mechanism. Caboose’s past team kills aside, he’s no threat to anyone right now.”

“I see.”

Wash stared for a moment before conceding. “I apologize for not making you aware in advance.”

John tilted his head. “I suppose it’s the kind of thing you get used to.”

Tucker cleared his throat. “I’m… going to… uh… I’m gonna go check on the bread.”

John sighed and reached up to his helmet, gently easing it off, running a hand through salt-and-pepper hair.

Wash looked between him and Caboose and wisely chose to stay silent.

“Holy shit, dude.”

Grif apparently had no such qualms.

“Why do you look like Wash?”

“Wait – what?”

Caboose gasped. “It’s true! Agent Washington has freckles, and you have freckles just like his!” He poked his older brother in the face.

John sighed. “I have one of those faces.”

“Bullshit, dude,” Grif snapped. “Here, Wash, take off your helmet and sit next to him.”

“What?” Wash demanded. “Why?”

Sarge bumped his elbow and nodded. “I’ll cover you.”

Wash sighed and took off his helmet, sitting on the couch next to Master Chief so the Reds and Blues could play spot the difference.

“Damn,” Simmons said. “You’re right, Grif.”

“I hate to agree with Grif,” Sarge said.

John frowned and stared at him. “But…?"

Sarge grunted ambiguously.

“Wait a second,” Grif said, snapping his fingers, “helmet cam.”

More than a second passed, and then a view of exactly what Grif was seeing was projected on the wall.

Wash was shocked to see how little difference there was.

“Holy shit, Wash, you didn’t tell me you had a twin! Bow chicka-ˮ

“Don’t,” Wash and John chorused.

John glanced at him uncomfortably, fiddling with his helmet. “I don’t remember much of anything before the project. I was only six.”

“You mean SPARTANs weren’t grown in vats like clone troopers?” Simmons asked.

Grif elbowed him in the gut. “Not everything is based on Star Wars, Simmons.”

“They tried to use flash clones,” John said, “but they were too unstable and deteriorated too quickly. So, they took us from our homes and left the clones in our place. After a year, the clones would die. The parents would have something to grieve over.”

“Holy shit,” Wash whispered, far too calm to not be angry. “You’re John.”

“Yes,” Caboose said, “did you forget? That happens to me, too sometimes.”

“Shut up, Caboose,” Wash said, trembling, voice still unnervingly calm. “You,” he spat at John, “you were my whole world. That flash clone that was supposed to deteriorate in a year? It lasted until I was nine years old. Do you know what it’s like watching your whole world just waste away?” He stood. “Dad killed himself. Mom self-medicated until I had to be removed from her care, and then I was bounced around foster homes throughout the galaxy until I enlisted at sixteen! Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

“No,” John admitted. “I have no idea. Like I said, my life has been the military since I was six years old. I don’t even know my own last name.”

“It’s Cohen,” Wash said. He pointed at Chief and then at himself. “John and David Cohen.”

Sarge put a hand on Wash’s shoulder.

John tilted his head. “I thought you said Abernathy.”

“You two got married?” Carolina asked.

“Wait,” Caboose said. “If John is my brother, and Agent Washington is John’s brother, then that makes Agent Washington my brother!”

Wash shoved Sarge’s hand away. “He’s not my brother,” he said, walking away.

The Reds and Blues watched him go.

“Wow,” Simmons said, “whatever happened to wanting him to like us?”

“John?” Caboose asked.

John stood. “I need a computer.”

Sarge and Carolina exchanged a look.

Sarge sighed. “This way. Simmons upgraded all of Red Base’s computers, so you’ll have the fastest connection. C’mon, Caboose, you, too.”

“I’ll go check on Wash,” Carolina promised, already moving.

John grabbed her wrist. “I had no control over it,” he said. “If I had known I had a brother….”

“He knows.” Carolina pulled away and strode down the hall after Wash.

 

* * *

 

 

Wash paced angrily through his room, corner to corner to corner.

A knock on his door interrupted his brooding. “Wash? It’s ‘Lina.”

“Come in.”

Carolina waltzed in and scooped him up into her arms. “It’s okay.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his nose in her shoulder. “It’s bullshit.”

“I know.”

“Everyone always leaves and no one ever comes back.”

“I know.”

“You’re more my sibling than he is and you only had me for a year before Mom died and Leonard sent me away.”

“Wash,” ‘Lina said, rubbing circles through his armor. “You’re allowed to be mad, but you know it’s not his fault.”

“I know.” Wash melted, shaking. “I just – Someone took him away and someone wouldn’t let him come back but I can’t be mad at them because he saved the whole goddamn universe, and,” he took a deep, ragged breath, “and I always used to wish for my big brother back but not like this. He doesn’t even know me – I would’ve been less than a year old when he was taken.”

Carolina held him tight and after a moment, he began to sob.

“He doesn’t even know me.”

Carolina let him weep, waiting until his sobs tapered off into small gasps before speaking. "Maybe he'd like to."

 

* * *

 

 

“So,” Caboose said as John scrolled through everything they had found on his flash clone. “I think you should apologize to David.”

John paused. “Is that… what normal people do?”

“I don’t know, but you should always apologize if you hurt someone or kill them when they’re on your team.”

“How many people on your team have you killed?”

Caboose fell silent, fidgeting uncomfortably. “Tucker did it.”

John turned to look at him. “God, Mike, what happened to you?”

Caboose sighed. “I told you, the science people - ˮ

“I remember,” John interrupted. “The science people made you young again because they were afraid you couldn’t fight anymore, and there were lots of flashing lights and machines didn’t like you but then they liked you again.”

Caboose nodded, beaming. “You do remember!”

“Yes, but what happened after that?”

“Oh,” Caboose said, “then they were very afraid for real, like really super afraid, then they asked me if I wanted to be on Red Team or Blue Team, and I knew you were on Blue Team, so I said Blue Team, but then it was different Blue Team, but now you are here anyway, so that’s okay! Yeah, it all worked out in the end.”

John turned back to the computer, filing that information away for later. “Is that when you met David?”

“Yep! We went on a field trip! And then we saved the universe from Project Freelancer! Then we went on a cruise! Then we were in a war. I got promoted to Captain!”

“Captain?” John asked. “That’s… what? O-3?”

“No, silly, it’s a Captain! Cap-tuhn!”

“I know, but… You do know you used to be a CPO? That’s E-7.”

“Yes, but O comes after E and makes more money. Grif explained it to me when we all got our promotions. He said we were getting an O instead of an E plus one more number.”

“Then that would make you an O-8. A Rear Admiral in the UNSC, a… Major General in the United Army of Chorus, I think.”

“Oh. Does that make a lot of money?”

“We can look it up, but yes. Certainly more than an O-3, especially considering they probably didn’t know you’ve been in the army for almost fifty years.”

Caboose gasped in delight. “Did you hear that Freckles? We can buy you all the toys!”

John smiled fondly. “I’ll send a note to President Kimball to fix your promotion. She seems like a reasonable human being.”

“Yes, Principal Kimball is the best.”

“What’s this?” Sarge grunted, poking his head in the computer room.

“I’m getting a promotion!” Caboose cheered.

John turned to face him. “There was a mix-up with Mike’s rank. He was promoted from an E-2 to an O-3, but he held the rank of E-7 last I saw him, so he should be promoted to an O-8 at least, using the same guidelines as everyone else.”

“Is that higher than Colonel?”

“Colonel is… O-6? So, yes.”

“Damn dirty blues!” Sarge disappeared back into the hallway. “That’s cheating!”

“What?” John glanced at Caboose.

“Oh! I am blue and he is red, so we are fighting.” Caboose nodded sagely.

“You’re fighting?”

“Yep! We’re at war.”

“But you’re in his base?”

“Well, yes, we are friends.”

“But you’re fighting?”

“Yep!”

“And you’re at war?”

“Yep!”

“But you’re friends?”

“Yep!”

John sighed and turned back to his computer, scrolling past yet another report card. _‘Suspended for fighting,’_ this one read. John put it aside and pulled up the more in-depth report. “My clone got suspended from high school for beating up first-graders?” he squeaked.

Caboose looked up and grinned. “You did the Agent Washington thing!” He poked his head over John’s shoulder. “Oh! Wash told me about this one! The mean kids were beating him up and calling him names and telling him that he was a girl even though he told them he is a boy, so you beat them up for him! You have to admit, that does sound very in character for you.”

John sighed. “Yes, it is. I don’t understand, though. The flash clone shouldn’t have lived long enough to do that." He groaned and massaged his temples. "This would be so much easier if Cortana were here.”

Mike paused, tilting his head. “Where is the glowy blue lady? I liked her.”

John sighed. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” Caboose stood and draped himself over John’s back. “Agent Washington does this when I’m upset. He says it’s called pressure stimming. Does it make you feel better?”

For the first time since he arrived on the planet, John relaxed. “Yes, Mike. That helps a lot. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Do you want to help me get through the rest of these reports?”

“No, thanks. The letters don’t stay still for me anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m still good at lots of other stuff. Machines like me.”

John smiled. “They always have.”

Nearly an hour later, Wash knocked on the doorframe, changed into civvies. “Chow time. Tucker says bread is almost ready, and Donut managed to acquisition some sandwich fixings.”

John stood and stretched. “Coming. I haven’t had real food in years.”

“Yeah, don’t say the c-word around Tucker, please,” Caboose said.

John frowned. “The… c-word?”

Caboose nodded, staring.

“Oh. He’s the one who made the comment about the twins, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he does that a lot. I still don’t know what he’s going to do between the two ladies.”

John raised an eyebrow. “You don’t… remember that?”

“Remember what?”

John turned to David. “Mike used to be a bit of a player.”

Wash’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Caboose did?”

“Yes, how did you come up with the name Caboose?”

Caboose shrugged. “It’s the name the science people gave me. The J stands for John, like my very biggest brother!” He turned and bounded into the hall. “Come on! We have to get back to Blue Base before Grif eats all the food without us!”

“John, wait.” Wash grabbed his brother’s hand as he passed. “I’m… I’m sorry. You had no more say in all this than I did.”

John put his hand on Wash’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, too.”

Further down the hall, Caboose jumped up and down, clapping his hands. “Are we all brothers now?”

Wash shrugged and looked up to John, holding out his hand. “Brothers?”

John pulled him into a crushing hug. “Brothers.”

“Okay, but I still don’t have super strength like you two do!”

John took a step back. “Sorry.”

Wash nodded, doubled over in pain. “Dinner,” he gasped, pointing down the hall, “and some ice for my ribs.”

“Right,” John said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Let’s go.”

Caboose jumped up and down. “This is going to be so awesome! We should have a sleepover!”

John eyed Wash’s neck. “David might want to stay with his husband.”

Wash slapped a hand over his bruises and flushed bright red. “I’m fine,” he squeaked. “We got married for tax benefits more than anything else. I’m still a corporal, and he’s a colonel, so he makes about three times more money than I do. It made sense to pool our resources.”

“Oh my god,” Caboose said. “He’s your candy daddy.”

“What? No! Well, kind of? But no! Where did you even hear that term?”

“Tucker did it.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet he did.”

“You still see him, though?” John asked.

“Yes, he’s my boyfriend.”

“But also your husband.”

“Yes.”

“And you took his last name.”

“Yes.”

“Even though you got married just for tax benefits.”

“Yes.”

“Hmm….” John drummed his fingers on his rifle.

“Please do not give him the shovel talk. We are far too old and far too mature for that.”

“There will be no talk of shovels,” John promised.

Wash sighed.

“If you go to Red Base, you have to take a shower before coming back to the sleepover,” Caboose said. “Those are the rules. I don’t make them.”

“Oh, my God, Caboose!” Wash’s voice cracked as he opened the doors to Blue Base. “I can promise that will not happen! Can we please stop talking about my sex life and just go eat?”

“Who’s talking about our sex life?” Sarge asked.

“Colonel Sarge,” John called, “might I have a word?”

Sarge frowned but stood. “Of course.”

Wash walked past the table, grabbed a throw pillow from the couch, and screamed into it before flopping over dramatically, whimpering as it jostled his ribs.

“Blue Team problems,” the remaining Reds chorused.


End file.
